


The Ballad of Kuroo Tetsurou and Pudding Roots

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto features fairly heavily so be prepared, Electronics Shop AU, Kuroo is a nervous wreck, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warning: Implied Rats, gay pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kuroo is trying to have a normal life, working a dumb job with his stupid friend, but things get complicated when a cute boy appears and stirs up his muddy romantic history.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a few weeks since they’d started stocking games at Between the Wires, but they were _not_ a video game store. It was just the one corner. And there were only a few titles, mostly new releases and a couple of used games (donated by the gracious Bokuto.)

Yet, all Kuroo heard about was the new games place that opened up (bullshit, they’d been open for years, nothing about the place was new other than the one shitty corner). And even with the talk, they hadn’t gotten much more business after everyone figured out that the stock was so poor. It almost wasn’t worth it, except for one guy.

He came in everyday, eyes playing ping pong between the floor and the games rack. He’d do a cursory lap around the store, pretending to glance at stereos and computer parts while halfheartedly mashing buttons on his Gameboy Advance (seriously, who played those anymore, that thing must’ve been over a decade old). But he always returned to his old haunt, scanning the display for anything new (there never was) and, occasionally, picking something up.

Mostly, he bought the used games that Bokuto had brought in, and Kuroo couldn’t tell if it was because he was cheap or old fashioned. Either way, the guy barely said a word. He didn’t even make eye contact—all Kuroo got to see was the top of his head, dark brown roots long grown out into dyed blonde hair. 

Bokuto tried to make conversation a few times—asking if he needed help, making small talk about new releases—but the effort was useless. He coaxed a few words out of him, but nothing meaningful. Kuroo had learned to pinpoint his soft voice from across the shop by now, giving his rapt attention to anything he said, just because of the novelty of it. It was a pastime. 

“He didn’t stop by today,” he remarked one day, casually, as him and Bokuto closed up, and he saw Bokuto cock his head to the side curiously.

“You know, the quiet one. What did you call him?”

“Pudding roots!” Bokuto squawked excitedly, eyes lighting up in recognition, “Really, Kuroo, at least learn his name if you’re gonna stalk him like that.”

“His name isn’t pudding roots,” Kuroo said dismissively, regretful that he even brought it up. “And I’m not stalking him.” He paused to punctuate himself with an exasperated sigh, “I just notice him hanging around all the time.”

“He’ll be here tomorrow,” Bokuto said confidently, pulling a sly grin, “I got some guy today that traded in a bunch of his old games. He’ll be able to smell them.”

“Whatever you say, Bo,” Kuroo muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned the key to lock the front door. “Bye!” 

“Bye!” Bokuto called back, blowing a kiss at Kuroo before full on sprinting towards his car. 

Kuroo huffed out a laugh and mimed catching it, a faint smile spread across his face. He gave a fleeting glance towards the locked up shop, glowing sign dimming as it slowly shut off, and he felt himself taking Bokuto’s words about the mystery boy to heart.

 

“The great and powerful Bokuto was riiiight,” cooed a teasing voice from behind Kuroo’s head as the door opened and mystery boy walked in, taking his usual route while he left his eyes glued to his game. Bokuto outright stared, attention rapt, while Kuroo preferred to be a little more subtle. He stole the occasional glance up towards the games rack as he pretended to wipe down the countertop.

“Look, there he goes! He’s about to get to the games!” Bokuto had worked himself up in the minute or so it took pudding roots to halfheartedly glance at the same electronics he always did. He was crouched behind the counter, hair peeking out comically as he tried to be stealthy.

But Kuroo couldn’t help himself, either; as the familiar stranger made his way to the games display, he watched with a mild curiosity. 

He saw the boy’s eyes do their usual, intense scan, and then stop as soon as they hit the new cartridges. They’d been a little beaten up, but they worked fine (or so Bo had told him) and he found himself holding his breath as he waited for his reaction. 

His brow furrowed a bit, and he dropped the gameboy to his side, glancing up to lock eyes with Kuroo, who felt suddenly exposed.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, quietly, but with a concentrated anger that took Kuroo off guard. “You’re asking over fifty bucks for _used_ Pokemon game–”’

Out of his periphery, Kuroo saw Bokuto slide farther back behind the counter, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back laughter. 

“I, uh, I’m really sorry?” He started, stopping himself and taking a second the regain his composure. “It’s a corporate decision, you know, the new app thing came out and now everyone wants to play the old games, and I don’t determine the prices, but I can probably get you like a discount or something?”

“No, it’s fine, I already have them.” _Then why were you so fucking mad about it?_

“Right.” Okay. Don’t make this weird. “So...you like Pokemon?” God dammit.

Despite how awkward and forced it sounded, mystery boy’s eyes lit up, as much as they could while still maintaining his eternal unenthused air. “Yeah, I started playing around when Diamond and Pearl came out, but the first one I actually had was Blue, and I kind of fell in love with the older ones.” He gave a longing glance back at the cabinet full of overpriced gameboy color cartridges. “It’s a shame to see them marked up like that.”

“Wow, I didn’t really start playing until the newer ones…” Kuroo trailed off, feeling a bit of panic because he really didn’t know that much about Pokemon. “I’ve been on and off on Omega Sapphire.” He was _pretty_ sure that’s what it was called. Almost positive. 

Pudding roots gave him a brief, confused glance, but seemed to drop whatever he was about to say. “The last batch of remakes were really great, yeah, I loved revisiting Hoenn with all the new stuff. And I mean, RSE were so good to begin with…” 

He went on. And on. Kuroo would interject every once in awhile, but pudding roots carried the conversation, elaborating on his many complex opinions about the quality of Pokemon games throughout the years. 

“But, really, I _liked_ mystery dungeon.” He put a finger to his lips to think a minute, and then gave up on whatever he was about to say with an exhale. He looked at Kuroo (who had no idea what mystery dungeon was, at all, other than it was underappreciated apparently) expectantly. 

“So, uh, what’s your favourite Pokemon?”

Almost on cue, Bokuto popped up from behind the counter like a spring, eyes wide and smile wider. “Mine’s noctowl!” 

Pudding roots looked bewildered, like a deer caught in the headlights, and Kuroo caught him glancing at the door. “Sorry for taking up so much of your time,” he mumbled, voice becoming once again meek. “Bye.” He left quickly, bringing his game back up to stare at as he pushed the door open.

“Aw, come on, we were just having fun!” Bokuto called at the closing door, and Kuroo gritted his teeth. “Who knew pudding roots would be such a–”

Whatever he was about to say came out as a choke as Kuroo grabbed Bokuto by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall. He saw his hands come up defensively and his smile, for just a moment, falter. Kuroo just held him there, teeth clenched.

It was only a brief lapse before Bokuto caught himself with a snarky remark. “Come on, Kuroo, I thought you said we were done with this.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and the hard anger on Kuroo’s face softened. He let go of Bokuto’s shirt and turned back to the counter, breathing a heavy sigh.

Bokuto followed Kuroo and rested his chin on the other boy’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s waist from behind and swayed gently in time with the soft music playing in the shop.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said, quietly, almost vulnerable but still with a protective layer of teasing. Kuroo saw right through it; he always did, had learned to years ago.

“I meant it when I said we’re done, Bo,” he said coldly, but he let him stay there, embracing him, for as long as he wanted. Bokuto closed his eyes and hummed quietly, and Kuroo felt like he was a year in the past.

He just wished those silver tufts of owlish hair were badly kept brown roots. After a few minutes (too long, not long enough), he shifted slightly and Bokuto took the hint, let go of his waist, and took a step back. He still had a serene smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry I scared off pudding roots.” A rare, genuine apology.

“Don’t worry about it, Bo.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo gets distracted from his Bokuto-centric drama by two things: Pokemon and pudding roots.

Kuroo woke up the next morning with a gnawing sense of guilt.

It wasn’t uncommon to feel it, shifting uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach whenever he had a moment with Bokuto. It happened every time he showed even the vaguest interest in someone else. 

Bokuto was hopelessly, pathetically in love with him. Kuroo was not. The world kept turning. 

He went in to work and everything was normal, like it always was. Bokuto crowed about something or the other, far too excited for how early it was. Kuroo listened with a faint smile, glad to see him back to his usual self, but he caught brief glances at his expression when Bokuto thought he wasn’t looking. He noticed Bokuto looking at him a little longer than he should’ve, a little more pensively than could be attributed to a neutral expression. He wasn’t over it yet, but damn if he wasn’t trying. 

On his breaks, or just in lulls in business (which were frequent, it wasn’t a popular store), Kuroo played Pokemon. He’d felt like a bit of a dumbass and thought that maybe he could beef up his knowledge, so he took his 3DS and his copy of _Alpha_ Sapphire to work. It mostly amounted to him feeding his precious Pokemon and petting them, which he’d conveniently forgotten was his favourite part of the game.

Anyway, his mid-70s team didn’t really need more training. He’d already beaten the elite four and caught Rayquaza _and_ Deoxys, so it wasn’t like there was anything left to do. He walked around idly with his little character, aimlessly battling wild Pokemon.

Bokuto watched him play with an unmistakably jealous glare. Kuroo tried to avoid him, creating an awkward tension in the shop that made the day drag on.

Finally, he was saved when he saw pudding roots walk in. He really needed to learn the guy’s name; every time he mentally called him pudding roots in reminded him of Bokuto, and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. 

Pudding roots (damn, there it was again) made eye contact with Kuroo as he opened the door, eschewing his usual route around the shop to make a beeline straight for the counter. It was a little exciting, the break in the routine. Kuroo found himself glancing around for Bokuto in the few seconds he had before mystery boy (there, better) reached him.

He wasn’t in sight, probably hiding out in the back room for a smoke or just to get out of doing work. It worked for Kuroo; he felt some of his guilt melt away knowing that Bokuto couldn’t see him talking to his beautiful mystery boy. 

Not only was the route different, but now mystery boy didn’t have his signature Gameboy. Instead, he clutched a bright yellow 3DS with a cartoon Pikachu on it in his right hand.

“Hi,” he greeted shyly, his voice still barely above a whisper.

Kuroo didn’t really know what to say. He had a brief moment of panic and cracked an awkward smile before sputtering, “Hi, um, how can I, uh, how can I help you?”

The mystery boy cocked his head to the side and held up the game system. “I brought my 3DS, do you want to battle?” 

Kuroo nearly choked on thin air, because that was not what he expected. He blinked and took a second to regain his composure, twisting around the see where he’d left his Pokemon stuff. “Yeah, sure, we’re not busy.” He thought of calling for Bokuto to run the counter while he was gone, but decided not to after stealing another glance at mystery boy, who had the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. 

“I didn’t catch your name yesterday,” mystery boy continued, flipping open his 3DS and booting up his game. 

“Kuroo. I don’t think I got yours either.” Hell yes. Finally, he could stop calling him a combination of pudding roots and mystery boy. 

“Kenma,” he mumbled, already engrossed by the game, tapping away at the screen with a yellow stylus. Kuroo felt a little self conscious about his plain black 3DS with the red stylus that totally didn’t match because he’d found it on the floor somewhere a few weeks after losing his.

He glanced over at Kenma’s screen and saw him organizing his party, a mix of Pokemon, some of which he was pretty sure you couldn’t get without trading. As his game switched on, he already had his party in order; his faithful friends that had gotten him through the gyms and elite four. Maybe it wasn’t the most balanced team, he realized, but they were trained well. And super high-level.

“Normal or no restrictions?” Kenma asked quietly, eyes trained on his screen. 

Kuroo did not remember what either of those meant. “Normal,” he decided, figuring that was the safest bet. He’d never really battled against other trainers aside from Bokuto, back when the games first came out, but he was always easy to beat. All his pokemon were flying types.

Kenma nodded in acknowledgement and they waited in silence for the local wireless to connect. Kuroo took the time to subtly steal glances at Kenma’s face, drawn into a focused expression. He studied the slight furrow of his brow as gears whirred in his head, for just a few seconds before the screen changed and brought them to select the order of their Pokemon.

Kuroo adopted his usual strategy; lead with Blaziken, equipped with its mega stone, and follow with the rest of his team. They were all capped at level 50, which he assumed would be a good thing; at least they’d be on a level playing field. 

The trainers appeared on the screen and threw out their first Pokemon; Kuroo’s Blaziken and Kenma’s Cloyster. Ah shit, type disadvantage. Where’d he even get one of those? Kuroo hadn’t seen a Shellder anywhere in the game.

His Blaziken got off a sky uppercut (super effective, cool!) that took out a decent chunk of health before being knocked out by a hydro pump. Great. His strongest pokemon didn’t even get one kill. 

Well, at least he’d forgotten to burn his mega evolution, because he still had a Manectric with a mega stone equipped on the bench. He sent him out next, remembering to click the button and smirking as he watched the cool animation. He took the Cloyster out with a lucky hit from Thunder (low accuracy be damned), and he saw a slight shift in Kenma’s expression. Distracted by it, he didn’t notice that he’d already sent out an Altaria. And proceeded to wipe the floor with his Mega Manectric. Who knew Altaria could learn earthquake?

Things went a little south for Kuroo there, with the Altaria wiping out two more members of his team before he took it down. His two against Kenma’s four remaining pokemon didn’t look promising, and after a real dick move of using destiny bond Kenma took down his last pokemon.

Kuroo was a little disappointed with how fast he’d lost, but some of it melted away when he saw the little smirk on Kenma’s face.

“That wasn’t really fair, that was my competitive team,” he said, still quiet and shy, but the smug little smile didn’t go away. 

“Competitive?” Kuroo asked, because he didn’t really know what that meant.

“Yeah, like, really good?” Kenma put a finger to his chin, trying to find the right way to explain it, “Bred to have their IVs maxed out and stuff so they’re as powerful as possible.”

Kuroo didn’t really know what that meant either, but he let it go. “So, you do competitions?”

“No, it’s just a hobby. I had some free time so I put together a team. It isn’t even that good, I’d never be able to win actual competitive matches with it.” He looked a little sheepish admitting it.

“Well, you kicked my ass,” Kuroo said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders. He saw a brief, worried glint in Kenma’s eye and flashed him a reassuring smile. He saw the corners of Kenma’s mouth upturn ever-so-slightly in response, and he felt like he’d just won the lottery.

Kuroo was in a strange state of serenity and panic, intertwined into one stressful and blissful emotion. On one hand, he was playing Pokemon with a beautiful boy who smiled at him and said cute things and was perfect in every way. On the other hand, there was quite literally an unpredictable screech owl hiding in the other room not twenty feet away. 

And, like the telepathic inconvenience he was, the screech owl arrived. 

Kuroo could smell the cigarette smoke that wafted out as Bokuto closed the door to the backroom, wearing his usual smile. He was one of the only people Kuroo knew whose natural expression was a smile; he wondered if it hurt. 

Kenma looked up, freezing as he saw the unfamiliar (well, slightly familiar) face. He pulled his 3DS closer to his face, almost like an instinct. 

Bokuto noticed him immediately, and his big, round eyes lit up. He cracked a toothy grin before shouting, in his booming voice, “Pudding roots!”

“Is that what you guys call me?” Kenma asked meekly, lowering his game just a little bit to meet Bokuto’s eyes as he rushed up to the counter, standing near Kuroo. 

“It’s what _he_ calls you.” Kuroo searched Bokuto’s face for any sign of...jealousy? Antagonism? Something sinister, some underlying motive, but he found nothing. Even after knowing him for so long, he couldn’t predict Bokuto’s random mood shifts. The kicked puppy routine had gone completely, like it had never happened. 

“They’re not that bad,” Kenma muttered, looking down at the floor. He looked physically smaller, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute.” The first thing Kuroo thought slipped out of his mouth and he immediately regretted it. He saw Kenma’s eyes leave the floor just as quickly as they’d found it, staring right up at him with a curious glint.

Bokuto made a noise between a squawk and a laugh. Kuroo glared at him, face burning and flushed bright red. 

Bokuto caught his eye and his jovial expression fell just a bit. There it was, the sadness and longing he’d been looking for. Kuroo wondered what he’d do with it. 

“Bokuto,” he said suddenly, sticking his hand out for Kenma to shake. He accepted, a little surprised and noticeably nervous. 

“Kenma.”

“Nice to meet you, pudding roots, but seeing as I’m the only one working around here–” he shot Kuroo a knowing look, and he’d never been more grateful in his life, “–I gotta go!” And with that, he was gone, disappearing once again into the back room. 

“He’s a character,” Kenma remarked, visibly relaxing as soon as Bokuto was out of sight. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo started, smiling in spite of himself, “But I love him. I mean, he’s my best friend, how could I not?” How _could_ he not love Bokuto? The guilt returned full-force, catching him off guard.

Kenma let out a breathy laugh and snapped his 3DS shut and spared a quick glance towards the door. “I had fun battling you,” he said, looking back towards the floor. He did that when he was nervous, Kuroo realized. He was _nervous_. 

“Yeah, me too. Maybe next time I’ll have a better team and actually put up a fight.”

“I don’t know, do you want to play something else instead?” Kenma looked back up at him, eyes wide and questioning and _beautiful_ , and Kuroo swallowed heavily.

“Yeah, sure, I don’t really have that many 3DS–” 

“I have a bunch of stuff at my place, you should come over,” Kenma said, like it was that simple, like it wasn’t the greatest idea that anyone on earth had ever thought of. 

“Sure,” Kuroo agreed breathlessly. Kenma reached for some paper and pulled out what looked like a crossed off shopping list from his pocket. Before he could even ask for a pen, Kuroo grabbed one off the counter and handed it to him.

He scribbled down an address and gave some vague directions. “And, ugh, in case you get lost or something,” he muttered as he wrote down his phone number at the bottom, and Kuroo swore for a moment that he saw red tinging Kenma’s cheeks. 

“I get off at five, so, uh, around then, alright?” Kuroo said, trying desperately to hide his blush.

“See you then,” Kenma said in his soft, quiet voice, giving Kuroo one more shy smile before turning and walking out of the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait to update but you know, what the hell?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo has a conversation that he's been dreading.

“He really gave me his number,” Kuroo muttered, laying on the floor of the break room, head resting on Bokuto’s lap. His fingers combed through Kuroo’s messy hair, and he was trying his hardest not to laugh. 

They sat in comfortable silence, and Kuroo found himself almost drifting off to sleep. Bokuto began to hum quietly as he played with his hair, something soft and vaguely familiar. God, he’d missed this. He’d miss this. 

“Bo,” he said quietly, trailing off and looking away, not quite knowing what he was about to say. 

“Hm?” Bokuto hummed, eyes still closed.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Bokuto’s hand stopped moving through Kuroo’s ruffled hair and his eyes slowly opened. He cocked his head to the side, his face a mix of curiosity and contentment. “Okay about what?” They both knew he knew. Bokuto just wanted him to say it, to stop skirting around this year of being in and out of love. To finally know for sure what they both wanted. 

“Pudding roots. Me and pudding roots. My weird kind of maybe thing for pudding roots.” Kuroo found himself tripping over his words, unsure what he wanted to say but determined to get it out. 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” Bokuto asked hollowly, “You’re not my boyfriend.”

They both felt the weight of it, the finality, the uncomfortable acceptance of a reality that they both desperately wanted but had passed them by. 

“But we keep doing _this,_ ” Kuroo said, voice beginning to tinge with frustration. He sat up and grabbed Bokuto’s hand for emphasis, holding it up between their faces as the other boy blinked owlishly at him. “We keep doing this kind of maybe relationship thing where we just act like we never really broke up and it’s okay and we’re happy about it and it’s fucking with _you,_ Bo, more than it’s fucking with me.”

“Then why are you so worried about it?” He sounded detached, uncaring. His whole body drooped, void of the usual excited energy so characteristic of his being.

Kuroo bit his lip, breathing out a heavy sigh. Bokuto was so fucking _dense_. 

“Because I still love you, asshole,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt like he may as well cough his heart out onto the tacky carpet and leave it there for the rats. 

“Really?” Bokuto asked sarcastically. He tightened his grip on Kuroo’s hand and stared intensely.

“You know what I mean, Bo. You’re my best friend. I’ll _always_ love you.”

If he could, Bokuto deflated more. Kuroo could tell just by looking at him that he really didn’t want to argue, he just wanted things to be okay. There was a long, _long_ silence, both of them staring at the floor and pointedly ignoring their hands still clasped together.

“Do you remember when we were seventeen?” Bokuto started, smiling faintly. He rubbed his thumb gently across the back of Kuroo’s hand.

Kuroo scooched closer, taking the bait, because he knew _exactly_ what Bokuto was talking about. “When we got drunk together in my living room at 2 am and you dared me to kiss you ‘cause you thought I wouldn’t do it?”

“We were dumb as hell,” Bokuto mused, with an unmistakable twinge of nostalgia flickering across his features, “I kinda miss it.”

“Yeah, it was a lot less...complicated.” Kuroo wondered where he was going with this, or if it was just directionless recollection. With Bokuto, you could never tell. 

“Can it be like that again?” He asked softly.

“Bo, we _just_ had the conversation–”

“No, I mean...How it was before we dated. And we were stupid and best friends and we loved each other without all the romantic baggage and we could just be close without it being weird like it is now.” It was one of the rare occasions when Bokuto’s voice was quiet, when he was being serious. 

“Is that really all you were worried about? You’re not, like...longing to still be together?” Kuroo asked, blinking slowly as the realization hit him. 

“Yeah? I just want to be your best friend,” Bokuto said with a wide smile, a bit of the life returning to his eyes. They seemed to glow, a soft golden brown.

Kuroo tipped his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking and eyes closed and barely stopping himself from falling backwards onto the floor. Bokuto joined him, clasping his hands onto his shoulders to keep him from tumbling over, and yet they both ended up sprawled on the floor, laughing so hard it nearly brought tears to their eyes.

“You know, you were wrong about one thing, Bo,” Kuroo said finally, getting his breath back, still lying on the floor with his eyes staring up at the florescent lights. 

“What?”

“We’re _still_ dumb as hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was weird but look it needed to happen before I could move on to the sappy romance, honestly it's a testament to how much i fuckin love bokuto that he gets a whole chapter to himself in my fic that's not about him
> 
> SAPPY SHIT IS COMING NEXT WEEK FOLKS STAY TUNED


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys, unsurprisingly, play video games.

“Oh, shit, we’re still working,” Kuroo said, sitting up quickly as he heard the door to the shop open. Bokuto chuckled beside him and they sheepishly made their way out of the break room to greet a customer than neither of them recognized. 

Maybe they’d spent thirty minutes laying on the floor of the break room in comfortable silence, holding hands like teenage idiots. It’d been a long day. 

Luckily, the woman who’d walked in didn’t seem to need any help. She quickly found what she was looking for and was gone, leaving the shop empty again, with only a few hours until Kuroo’s shift ended. 

They were a pleasant few hours—business was slow, Bokuto was happy and affectionate—but they dragged on. Kuroo was antsy, clumsy in his nervousness, watching intently for the clock to strike five so he could leave. 

Bokuto teased, as Bokuto does; relentlessly, but always in good fun. It helped ease the tension, with him coming up behind Kuroo at random intervals and whispering “ _Smitten?_ ” into his ear, which always ended in a fit of blushing and laughter.

And, despite slowing to a crawl, time did eventually win its battle. Kuroo’s shift was over. He said a hurried goodbye to Bokuto, who just laughed as he watched him fumble with his keys and drop them three separate times.

“Good luck!” He called out with a wink as Kuroo finally collected himself and pushed open the door. Deep breaths. _Okay, you can do this. Go play video games and don’t do anything stupid._

Kuroo dropped his keys two more times before he reached his car, and one time trying to start the ignition. It was starting to get really frustrating, so he took a moment and closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. Because he didn’t know why he was so damn nervous. He was _never_ nervous, not like this.

He pulled the scribbled-over shopping list out of his pocket (for about the fifth time that day, admittedly) and read over it again; left here, drive past two stop signs, right on Magnolia. Fairly clear directions, even he couldn’t fuck it up.

Oh, how wrong he was. After about thirty minutes of aimless driving, Kuroo was on the verge of panic. He told Kenma he’d be there sometime around 5; it was almost 6 now. What if he thought he bailed? What if he did just bail, and let the stress wash away? What if Kenma got super mad that he _totally_ bailed on him and now he hates him and–

Wait. That was the address. Hell yes, crisis averted. Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief, quickly followed by a sharp inhale of nervousness because he was _at Kenma’s apartment building._ But he felt good, too, excited and a little prickly, and a smile crept across his face in spite of himself.

2nd floor, apartment number 23. Kuroo actually managed to find that pretty easily, because all the hallways were straight and the elevator was in plain sight as soon as he walked into the building. He found himself at Kenma’s door, which had little cat stickers on it. God damn. 

Kuroo took a deep breath and rapped on the door three times, feeling a little flutter in his chest when the knob turned and it creaked open.

“Hey,” Kenma said, looking over him with a shy smile. He wiggled his fingers in a small, nervous wave, and Kuroo cracked a huge grin. 

“Sorry if I’m a little late,” He mumbled sheepishly as Kenma motioned him inside his apartment. It was a pretty cramped place, and in a bit of a state; there was a formidable pile of clothes heaped in the corner and the table in front of the couch was littered with junk. 

“Excuse the mess, my roommate’s a disaster,” Kenma said absent-mindedly as he flawlessly navigated the assortment of random objects on the floor (an overflowing box full of Christmas decorations half-heartedly shoved against the wall, a couple of stuffed animals, a stack of large books). 

“You have a roommate?” Funny; he’d pegged Kenma as the solitary type. 

“Yeah. He’s…” Kenma looked around for a moment, “Somewhere.”

Kuroo felt a little more comfortable now, almost relaxed as he settled into the inviting air of the apartment. It was messy, but not gross, and it gave a sense of familiarity, instead of the clinical, detached room he’d expected.

Kenma led him over to the couch, which was very soft and possibly one hundred years old. It was sagging and looked like it had seen better days, but hell if it wasn’t comfy.

“Got a system of choice?” Kenma asked, already rifling through a stack of games.

“No, anything’s cool,” Kuroo said, noticing that the junk scattered across the coffee table was mostly game stuff, controllers and a tangle of wires with a couple of cartridges poking through. 

Kenma nodded quietly and spared a glance at the tv to see what was already hooked up. He grabbed a Wii remote off the cluttered table and tossed it to Kuroo.

“Any good at Mario Kart?” he asked, spending a few more seconds to locate the game pad, which was charging in the corner. The screen lit up as he turned it on, and Kuroo saw his remote flash to display that he was player 2.

"Decent."

The game started up, blasting familiar music _far_ too loudly, and Kuroo couldn’t help but remember drunken nights at 2am, screaming at the tv with Bokuto as they both careened off the sides of maps that were probably easy to anyone who wasn’t smashed. They were good memories, but they made his chest hurt, especially when he glanced over Kenma’s nigh-imperceptible smile.

Kuroo did not like to think of himself as competitive, because Kuroo liked to lie. Despite the casual atmosphere, he could feel the familiar itch of excitement in his fingers because damn if he didn’t want to _win_ , especially after losing so hard at Pokemon. 

He had a fighting chance, at least, because Kuroo was _really_ good at Mario Kart. Even though this was a newer one than the one he’d played, and Kenma was probably some video game genius. Regardless.

The character selection screen popped up and Kenma made an immediate grab for Tanooki Mario, which made Kuroo pause for a moment to consider how _fucking_ cute that was before he scanned over the options and picked an old favourite: Waluigi.

Kenma already knew his build (typical), and Kuroo just picked the first few things that seemed thematically appropriate and had decent handling and speed. Kenma glanced at him as the track selection screen came up, and he gave a shrug of indifference.

Kenma picked the cup with rainbow road. What a bitch.

It was the last track on the cup (because of course it was), and Kuroo didn’t know if that made it more or less stressful. Whatever, eyes on the prize: Cloudtop Cruise was starting up and...it was a track he’d never seen before. Great, great, he’d just play it by ear and everything would be okay.

And in the long run, it kind of worked out. The first lap was a bit of a struggle, staying near the middle of the pack but never pulling too far back, whereas Kenma took an early lead but never got too far ahead. 

Kuroo, of course, had the disadvantage of being distracted. He wanted to watch Kenma’s eyes while he played, engrossed wholly in the screen of the gamepad, watch the ever-so-slight twitch in his facial muscles when anything happened, good or bad. It was like seeing a mathematician solve an impossible equation, fascinating and beautiful, confusing and a little bit terrifying. 

His eyes drifted from the screen for maybe two seconds and there he was, careening off the edge of a sharp turn and falling back from 3rd to 6th just like that. Ah, dammit, there went his chances of winning—wait, no, the Mario Kart gods blessed him with three red shells. Alright, time for real strategy. 

He passed to 5th pretty easily, and used his first shell to knock his way up to 4th—a much more respectable place. After a few seconds of careful driving, Bowser came into view and he nailed him with the second shell, easily claiming 3rd. Peach wasn’t far ahead, and the last red shell sailed towards her. Kuroo was sitting pretty at 2nd, with only Kenma in front of him.

And where was the bastard? A quick glance to his side of the split screen showed that he was pretty far ahead, already halfway through lap three. Okay, maybe this track was a lost cause, but 2nd wasn’t a death sentence. 

Nothing disastrous happened—a few close calls, but nothing too bad—and second place was secured. Kuroo felt kind of exhausted just by the one track, because it was really hard work to keep up, but Kenma didn’t look fazed. 

He was collected as ever, and the way his hair framed his face when he had it tilted down the stare at the gamepad was doing terrible things to Kuroo’s heart. It was basically a form of cheating, being that criminally attractive. 

Kuroo had managed to keep pretty quiet during track one, refraining from the usual bouts of yelling that accompany any game of Mario Kart, but his concentration was starting to slip about halfway through track two. 

He swore he saw Kenma snicker when he (very loudly) called Bowser a “spiky turtle motherfucker,” and he couldn’t help but keep it up after that, progressively getting louder as he relaxed into the rhythm of the game, because it was nearly impossible to play Mario Kart without screaming. And anyway, with the way Kenma was smiling and laughing, he at least thought it was funny.

“Kenma, who’s here?” A voice called, seemingly from another room, after a particularly loud “Son of a bitch!”

Kuroo glanced up as Kenma hit pause, and he saw the bright orange hair before anything else. He assumed that this short little guy who looked about twelve was Kenma’s roommate. He was looking at Kuroo with big, curious eyes that sparkled with a hint of excitement.

“This is Kuroo,” Kenma mumbled, throwing a sideways glance over the back of the couch to briefly lock eyes with his roommate. 

“You didn’t introduce me to your friend? Rude!” Hinata squawked in a fashion so familiar it made Kuroo chuckle, although his energy seemed different than Bokuto’s. It was more… pure. The orange-headed ball of lightning, after sparing an offended glare, snapped to attention and smiled wide at Kuroo. “Hinata Shouyou!”

“Nice to meet you,” Kuroo said, turning around to rest his arms on the back of the couch and get a good look at Hinata. He had on a jacket that was almost snazzy and a white shirt with some words obscured by the strap of the bag slung around his shoulders. 

Kenma gave him a once over, doing that nervous thing where his eyes found the floor as fast as they could and his thumb fiddled with the joystick on the gamepad. “Weren’t you going out?”

“Oh, yeah!” His eyes lit up like fireworks, his smile, amazingly, growing even wider. But it faltered when he glanced over at Kuroo, like he’d briefly forgot he was there. “I wanna meet your friend though! And it’s just stinky old Kageyama, he won’t miss me.”

“The last time you cancelled on him he didn’t shut up about it for a week,” Kenma said pointedly and _damn_ , he was really trying to get this guy out of his hair.

Hinata pouted, visibly deflating, and started taking reluctant steps towards the door. Kenma turned away with a little grin, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“Bring Natalie back with you,” Kenma added as Hinata had made it about halfway to the door.

“Ooh!” Hinata squeaked, lit up with excitement so quickly Kuroo was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. He zipped to the door with near inhuman speed and was gone without a word.

“Natalie?” Kuroo asked curiously. There was a little spike of worry in his stomach because _what if Natalie was Kenma’s girlfriend or some girl he was into and he’d totally misread the situation and this wasn’t at all what he thought it was and-_

“Kageyama’s cat,” Kenma said with a little, wistful smile, and Kuroo let out a chuckle-sigh of relief. 

“It’s fucking weird when people give their pets people names,” Kuroo said immediately, because it _was_ , and this was a stance he was not ready to shift on.

Kenma gave it a moment of thought, tapping his chin lightly with his forefinger. “Yeah,” he decided finally, “But it’s also really funny. I’m okay with it.”

He hummed softly for a second, like he was still thinking about it, and continued, “And it really works for some pets, because they have so much personality, like, Natalie is really her own person and the name just seems to suit her so much, I couldn’t imagine it being anything else.” He seemed satisfied with his answer.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Kuroo said sheepishly, because he really hadn’t put much thought into it. _Note to self: Kenma puts a lot of thought into things. Stop saying stupid shit._

“How do you feel about cats?” Kenma asked in a sudden shift of tone. He face was still angled downward but his eyes looked up to meet Kuroo’s, a soft and curious gold that was almost uncomfortably intense.

“I love them, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a cat, or really even seen one. You don’t have one, do you?” Kuroo, as he so often did, had the sudden and intense desire to pet a cat.

“Tragically, no.” Kenma smiled slightly and set the gamepad he was still holding to the side. “My old apartment didn’t allow pets, and I only moved here a month ago, and I just haven’t found one yet. Cause you know, you can’t really rush into getting a cat, you have to wait for them to find you.”

“Yeah, you know, I _could_ get a cat,” Kuroo said thoughtfully, because he really hadn’t considered it in a while, the idea of getting a pet. “My old roommate had a bird so it was a no-go, but he moved out...a while ago.”

“Ooh, a bird?” Kenma’s chin lifted just a little, his eyes sparking with curiosity, and the small gesture made Kuroo feel like he’d been pushed into a spotlight. 

“Yeah, yeah, cockatiel. He could talk and sing and everything, it was actually really cool. You met Bokuto, right?” Kuroo remembered, vividly, that Kenma had met Bokuto; the question was a formality.

“You guys were roommates?” And like that, Kenma’s full attention was on him, face turned up and head cocked to the side just slightly. There was a casual, passing interest in his voice but something about his face read differently, a subtle shift in intensity that made Kuroo uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I mean, we moved in together right out of college because it was really convenient,” Kuroo said casually, leaning back into the comfortable couch because maybe acting like he was comfortable could make him feel better. But it didn’t; there were butterflies flapping in his stomach, agitated by talking about Bokuto.

“Oh, I thought you guys were,” Kenma paused for a moment, waving his hand in a vague, non-committal gesture, “Together?”

Kuroo chuckled and smiled his fakest grin, trying his best to sound genuinely calm. “What? No, we’re just close friends. And Bo’s kinda clingy–”

“A week ago I saw him come up behind you and kiss your neck,” Kenma sad flatly, expression unimpressed.

“He does that.” Kuroo shrugged, and then shuddered slightly under Kenma’s piercing gaze. “But we did. Date, for a bit. Didn’t work out.” That was an understatement.

“Hm,” Kenma hummed quietly, giving him a chillingly analytic once-over, “I’m glad that you’re still friends.” He picked up the gamepad and fiddled with the joystick again. _Nervous._

“We’re kinda lucky, I guess, it didn’t really change things...No hard feelings or anything.” Kuroo wasn’t really sure that this was true, because it _had_ changed things are there _were_ hard feelings, up until very recently, but Bokuto was capricious and he could change his mind at the drop of a hat. Kuroo liked to think it was fixed, over with, out of the way, but that was just a little too good to be true. He knew it’d be muddy and awkward and sad until, one day, it wasn’t. Today was not that day.

But he was thinking way too far in the future: thinking into a future where he and Kenma were happily dating (because, wow, he wanted that, he really did have a thing for pudding roots). 

Kenma gave him a nod and just the faintest hint of a grin before turning his eyes away and hitting the pause button again, causing the music to blare back to life.

“That’s fucking cheating!” Kuroo yelled, scrambling to find where he’d put the stupid Wii remote while Kenma, unable to hide his smirk, raced ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised cuteness but honestly? Is it even cute? Maybe a lil.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Haikyuu fic, enjoy the garbage fam.
> 
> Leave a kudos and a comment if you want to see more! All the love is heavily appreciated, darlings!


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